How To Be A Proper Hero
by InsigniaAmetrine
Summary: USxUK England tries to reach out to America in the only way that he'll actually listen : using talk of stories, heroes, plot, and villians. In the meantime, will either country be able to talk to each other directly about their feelings?
1. Character Development

"Aren't we missing someone, aru? There should be more people at this meeting, shouldn't there, aru?"

Around the table, there was Russia, China, America, England, and two empty chairs. The first three felt as if there maybe, just maybe, there might be some countries missing. Russia sat in silence, deciding it was more fun to simply watch.

America laughed. "The hero is here! That's all that matters!"

He grinned and gave China a big thumbs up. China raised an eyebrow, but decided to drop the subject. America took it as silent agreement. The young nation raised his hand in triumph, when an earth-shattering sneeze broke the silence. It came from America's left, where a sullen-looking Brit sat with his arms crossed.

"Don't. Say. A. Word. Git."

England's giant eyebrows were scrunched up, and his eyes were narrowed. The older nation was scowling at America. Alfred's grin grew wider.

"Why are you so happy, idiot? Your economy is terrible. And you're making us ALL sick." England said.

"Ha ha! No way! China's fine. _You're just old_." America stuck his tongue out at England.

England shouted, "I AM NOT OLD! SOD OFF! CHINA'S OLDER THAN I AM!"

China broke in, "Hey, that was rude, aru!"

England didn't respond. He was glaring daggers at his former charge. America just laughed it off-again.

"Yeah, but he's in WAY better shape than you are."

"Thank you, America." China said. He knew, of course, America only said it to piss off England. China still felt a little sour about the Opium wars, though, so he was fine with that.

America shrugged, "It's just the truth! And England is- "

"aah…..aah…AAAACHOOO!"

England's sneeze shook the foundation of the building. Dead silence filled the meeting room. He looked and felt so absolutely miserable, even America stopped laughing. America and China both had a look of worry on their faces. Arthur actually felt a bit touched by the open concern in America's expression. At least, until he felt an icy shadow fall on his back.

"Are you alright, Arthur? You seem ill. Become one with Russia, da? You will be well cared for." England could feel Russia's creepy smile on his back.

"I'm fine!" England said. Too quickly for a certain light-haired Russian's liking.

"Are you _sure_?" Russia said. "The cold in Siberia is sure to kill the germs that are causing you problems."

A sinister purple aura surrounded Russia. England could feel the man's smile creep wider, and the Russian's laugh made him shiver. This time Arthur spoke more slowly. "Uh…I will be fine, Russia."

To change the subject, America said, "It's that pervert who's missing. France."

Russia stepped away, unsatisfied, but apparently unwilling to pursue the matter further. England wasn't about to complain about that, however strange it might be. It was a close call.

China stood up. He said, "France is missing? Ah, that makes sense. But then, why is there a second chair, aru?"

America took off Texas and stared at it. His glasses got a little foggy just now, and he started to wipe them. _'The other seat is for Canada.' _America didn't want his brother to be sat on again.

England said, "I told America to put up the chairs. Obviously, he forgot how to count."

From the other countries' perspective, America was cleaning his glasses absentmindedly. Once he noticed China and England staring at him, he said, "Oh, yeah. I must have forgot." He laughed nervously. He put his fingers up one at a time. "One…Two…Three…oh, see! I remember now! Ha ha…"

England shot up from his seat and dragged America by the collar. "Hey! " He could have easily overpowered Arthur, but America allowed England to drag him. He didn't want to physically hurt the older man. Arthur took Alfred outside the meeting room. It was one thing for Russia to back down. Bloody hell, it was a blessing. The Englishman couldn't care less. But _Alfred _was not allowed to be any less than his loud, boisterous, obnoxious, stubborn, arrogant self.

"I was just joking! Are you mental?" Arthur said.

Which meant, in Arthur-speak, _'Are you okay? You don't seem all there in the head today.'_

Alfred laughed-again, which was starting to really grate on the Englishman's nerves. The older nation had a major headache, undoubtably from the state of the economy. Alfred's loud obnoxiousness was a bit much for Arthur to take.

"Don't worry, I'm fine! " The American rubbed the back of his head. "I'm doing great! I'm the hero, remember!"

Meaning, in Alfred-speak, _'I don't want to talk about it. I'm not supposed to get sick or feel down.'_

Arthur grew quiet for a moment, wondering how to get through to Alfred that it was ok to talk about his problems. The back of his mind told him it was a little hypocritical, considering his own unwillingness to talk about…certain things with Alfred. _Hypocrisy be damned. Alfred needs to hear it._

The blond Brit took a deep breath. He started in a quiet voice, "You know..."

The younger nation in the bomber jacket perked up eagerly. "What?" He said it in such a childlike voice, like how he sounded when he was just a colony. It distracted Arthur.

Al spoke again, "What is it, Iggy? Tell me!"

_How do I…ah, I know!_

Arthur leaned closer to Alfred, and Alfred did the same. "You know…heroes sometimes DO get sick, or get hurt or go through tough times. As a test of character! "

"What do you mean?"

This time, Arthur got to be the one to laugh. Alfred's childlike wonder took him back to the old days, when he raised America, even if the boy was an ungrateful idiot.

"It's called character development. Heroes have to go through trials in order to be interesting ones! You should really try one of my books sometime, America. _Twilight _is rotting your brain."

"Twilight's a book? I thought it was a movie." Alfred said. "And it didn't have enough explosions in it!"

England's eyebrows twitched. "You don't even know your own-nevermind that. The point is, heroes have to go through trials if they want to be interesting heroes. Heroes are much more fun to watch when they succeed if there's just a little bit a doubt that they might not."

Alfred looked a bit skeptical. So Arthur added on, "Plus, it makes the villain underestimate the hero! "

Cue a big, relieved smile on young America's face. "Hey, yeah, that's right, England! I will strive to be a more dramatic hero from now on! With doubts and all! You will underestimate me for sure!"

England said, "What was that, Alfred?"

"I said the villain will underestimate me for sure!" America jumped into the air and high fived the sky.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, or Twilight. Disclaimer is down here because I thought to myself..."_If I clicked on a story, and the first thing I saw was 'I do not own Twilight', would I continue reading?" _A pop-up ad for Twilight interrupted me while I was writing this, so I just had to poke fun at it._  
_

How am I doing? Good or bad?_  
_


	2. An Ambiguous Hero?

AN: One little warning before you venture into this chapter…there will be minor spoilers/discussion of the movies 12 Angry Men and Rashomon. Nothing important is spoiled in either, but just letting you know. Both of these movies are very good. I recommend watching them if you haven't.

I do not own Hetalia, Blockbuster, 12 Angry Men, or Rashomon!

* * *

**_America's POV, At a Blockbuster Rental Store_**

"Ah, come on...My movies are AWESOME! " America shouted into his expensive, touch-screen cell-phone. He could feel Arthur cringing, even a continent away.

America was browsing through a pile of black and white movies. Jean, the teen girl who worked here part-time , recommended them when Alfred asked for smarter, classier movies.

" _You know, the kind of things that a stuffy old British guy would like?"_

_The redhead laughed. "Oh, is your father visiting?"_

England's cranky voice snapped America back to reality. "I'm **busy.** "

America replied, with a smirk, "Oh yeah? What are you so BUSY doing?"

"Why don't you just ask Japan to watch a movie with you? You two are friends, right?"

America stared down at his shoes. He called Kiku less than fifteen minutes ago, but the nation had said,

"_I am sorry, America-san. I already have urgent plans. Perhaps another time?"_

Alfred mumbled, "He's busy too."

**_England's POV, England's house_**

America mumbled something about Japan being busy. So he did _call Kiku first._ England had suspected as much. But just to confirm…

"What was that, America?"

"He's busy too….wait, you two aren't plotting against the most awesome country in the world together, are you?" Alfred sounded a little possessive. Arthur didn't like that one bit. He could hang out with Japan if he damn well felt like it.

There was a way to get him back, though. He'd hit America where it hurts the most…in the ego.

"You mean Prussia?"

Alfred shouted "NO!" Arthur laughed, then Alfred continued, "I mean me! America is, of course, the coolest, most heroic country in the world."

Arthur's phone beeped-another call was coming in. He already knew who it was, or at least, he had a pretty good idea.

"Someone is trying to call me. I'll talk to you later, America."

Before America could protest, England cut him off and switched to the other line. "Japan?"

"Yes. Excuse me, but could you let me in, England-san?"

"Huh? What? Are you already here, Kiku?"

England grabbed a brown coat that was left lying on his bed. Wouldn't Kiku have knocked? Then again, England was busy talking on the phone with America. He was in his room instead of waiting at the door like one was supposed to, if you were expecting guests.

Japan said, "Uh, yes, I arrived a few minutes ago, and I knocked a few times, but you did not answer. "

"Sorry, Japan, I'll go open the door right now."

England hung up and put his phone back on the receiver. Arthur was half out of the room, until it hit him that he had just hung up on Alfred, too. Oh well, he already hung up, and Japan had been waiting at the door for who knows how long. He ran to into the living room. Japan said he had only been waiting a few minutes, but he might have said that just to make England feel better. He swung the door open.

Icicles had formed under Kiku's chin. His face was sickly pale. The dark haired nation stepped inside gracefully, pretending that there was not an icicle on his face.

"D-Did America-san call y-y-you?" The shorter man asked, shivering. "Right after you called me, America c-called. He wanted to watch movies."

England offered the brown coat he had been carrying. "Yes, Alfred called. He's worried that we're plotting against him."

Japan took the coat and laughed. "Well, we are…in a way."

**_America's POV, At a Blockbuster Rental Store_**

About a minute after England put him on hold, England hung up the phone without warning Alfred. He sighed, and sat down next to his pile of movies.

He had even found a movie that sounded good. Jean had said it was a movie that Arthur might like. The title was 12 Angry Men, so it couldn't possibly be as boring and stuffy as the things that Arthur normally like. She said it was some kind of court drama?

America glanced at the cover of the movie. It was yellow, and had a knife on it. He had probably seen it before, but couldn't remember what happened. Court drama sounded pretty close, though not quite right. Either way, it would hopefully be a good compromise. It was still an American movie, so Alfred would be happy. It wasn't actiony or explody, so maybe Arthur would like it.

Except for the fact England had refused to come.

_Well, fine then. Don't watch movies with me. Movies made in my country have too high a percentage of awesome for you to handle! _

**_England's POV, England's house_**

Japan was sitting in the kitchen, at England's table. England had prepared tea for the both of them. Japan accepted the hot drink eagerly. Already, some of the color was returning to Kiku's face.

Arthur said, "You get along with America so well. How?"

Kiku sipped the tea. "Well, we share some interests. Like videogames, toys, and anime. That helps."

"But that can't be the only reason, can it?"

"We do trading as well. America particularly likes my electronics."

Arthur said, "But I can't do that."

Japan sipped his tea quietly. He supposed that what he mentioned wasn't very helpful to England at all, so he would have to come up with other ways England could get along with America. Something England could actually participate in.

"What I meant to say is, you have to spend more time with him. I spend time watching anime with Alfred-san, for example. Do something he likes to do. Maybe you could watch a movie with him?"

"I hate America's movies."

Japan sighed, "I don't like them either, but America is a friend, so I watch it with him. No one else does, and I think it makes him lonely."

Arthur was pouring more tea into Kiku's cup. America had asked him just today to watch a movie, damn it. He really didn't want to, but judging from what Japan was saying, the sandy-haired nation would greatly appreciate it.

"Do you think America will still want to watch a movie?"

"**America always wants to watch movies."**

**_America's POV, At a Blockbuster Rental Store  
_**

Alfred put away most of the videos he was looking at. All he had left was the single movie he had been looking over earlier-12 Angry Men. The knife on the cover was important to the plot, he knew. But Alfred could not quite remember how.

_Beeeep! Beeeep! Beeeeep!_

America pulled out his phone and flipped it open. "Hello, this is the hero speaking!"

"America, what kind of movie did you have in mind anyway?"

America was dumbstruck. Was that England's voice? Did that old Brit actually call him back? He checked the caller id on his cell. Sure enough, it said, 'Eyebrows'.

"Oh hi, Iggy! I only had the most AWESOME court movie in mind. It's called _12 Angry Men. _But only cool people are allowed to watch it, because the awesome might burn your eyes."

_Should I be really be taunting him? _America wondered. But then he remembered what England said earlier about Prussia being more awesome than him. The guilt melted away instantly.

England was growling over the phone. America thought he heard a familiar-sounding chuckle in the background.

"America, do you want company or not? I am not going to sit around and listen to you-"

"Hey, England, let's order a pizza!"

Alfred heard Arthur sigh. "I take it that means you want me to come over?"

"Pepperoni or cheese?"

**_England's POV, England's house_**

Japan stayed over at Greece's house for the night, and England left to go to Alfred's place. Once he got there, Alfred gave him a bear hug, turned off the lights, and they both sat on the couch. America called some pizza joint and ordered two pizzas, while England tried to figure out the remote control. There was a huge array of buttons that made no sense to him. _Why should a remote for a TV and DVD player have so many bloody buttons anyway? _

He found the play button after America finished ordering the pizzas. It was a good thing, too, or else he'd have to suffer Alfred bragging about his mastery of TV sets all evening. The two nations got comfortable and started the movie. Arthur snuck closer to Alfred little by little while the other country was staring at the screen. Arthur had snuck close enough to put his arm around Alfred when he could find an appropriate moment. Then the pizza guy came about fifteen minutes into the movie.

Arthur got up to answer the door. That was normally something the host should do, but Arthur was determined to get it. Partly because he wanted to yell at the delivery boy, and partly because if Alfred had been the one to move, he would have noticed just how close Arthur had been sitting. England swung the door open wide, snapped at the pizza boy and paid it.

A cold breeze hit England just before he shut the door.

"Are you cold, Iggy?"

England turned around and sat back on the couch next to America. "No. I am not cold."

America laughed. "Yeah you are. Old man."

"I AM NOT THAT OLD!"

England crossed his arms and shut his eyes._ As impudent as ever, that America. I thought I had taught him better manners than that. _

He felt something soft and warm on his back. Arthur opened his eyes. Alfred was smiling at him. A flash on the TV screen reflected off of Alfred's glasses in the darkness.

"A hero can't let an old man freeze to death, now can he? " America chomped down on a slice of pizza and turned back to the screen.

England noticed he was now covered up by America's bomber jacket. It was warm, and soft. Arthur sniffed it. The jacket smelled musky, with a hint of cheeseburger and freshly cut grass. It was an odd combination, but the smell was distinctly Alfred. It reminded England of a picnic.

For the rest of the movie, Arthur snuck as close as he could to Alfred without sitting on him. Unfortunately for him, this movie, while more interesting than America's usual choices, afforded England no opportunity to put his arm around Alfred._ Drat. Well, America would probably have noticed anyway if I tried._

As America got up to put the movie away, England said, "That movie was better than I expected it to be."

America turned around and smiled. "Of course it's good! My people made it. And it shows off my brilliant justice system!" America paused thoughtfully. He mumbled something that England didn't hear.

England's head snapped up, sensing that America had made a disparaging remark just then.

"Say, Iggy, what was your favorite part of the movie?"

England searched his mind. It was a good movie…from the parts he remembered. He had been paying closer attention to Alfred during most of it. Well, there was one part that did stick out.

"I would say…the part where the other jurors turn away from the racist juror, and one of them tells him to stop talking."

Alfred said, "Oh yeah, that was a good part! "

Arthur took a deep breath. What made that part of the movie significant? He had heard of 12 Angry Men before…

"Every juror had their own prejudices, but thanks to the dissenter's arguments in favor of the boy, everyone was able to overcome their biases and think critically about the case…the scene with the racist juror was the most powerful example of that."

The words came out of England's mouth, but they weren't his words. He had heard them from somewhere else…perhaps from a film critic? America didn't know that, however.

"That's why my jury system is the best! It gives everybody a fair chance."

Normally, he would have found that incredibly annoying. At this time, however, the Englishman was able to understand why Kiku would watch movies with Alfred. It was worth it to see the sandy-haired American so happy and smiley, so full of child-like wonder and excitement. The American flashed the older Englishman a thumbs-up and a goofy grin.

Not that England would admit any of that out loud.

"Shut up, idiot. Not so loud. Your people are all asleep at this hour, aren't they?"

America's grin faltered for a moment. "Yeah, but they'll be fine. They stay up late all the time!"

England felt a bit ashamed. _Smile, you wanker. You are supposed to be the happy smiley one._

"America…hey, America, do you want to watch another movie?"

Alfred jumped, "YEAH! What's the movie? "

England got off the couch and opened up a storage cabinet in the corner of the living room. He knew Alfred kept his movies there. England could think of a movie that would be alright with him, and Alfred might be open to.

There was a short foreign film section, half of which was composed of anime, and the other half being gifts from various countries. Arthur remembered a film that Kiku gave Alfred. The latter likely never watched it.

"How about Rashomon?"

Alfred appeared next to Arthur's side. "Oh yeah, that's one of the ones Kiku gave me, isn't it? What's it about?"

Arthur gave him a short summary of the events of Rashomon, ending with:

"It shows how unreliable eye witnesses can be. "

"Cool, so it's like a murder mystery, and none of the witnesses can be trusted? So what really happened?"

Arthur said, "That's left up to the people watching the movie to decide."

It appeared that Alfred was about to open his mouth again, but he stopped.

"Wait, so why would you wanna hear a story by a storyteller can't be trusted? How are you supposed to know what happens? How do you know who is the hero? "

"You don't know. You decide for yourself what happens."

"But then-"

"Who are heroes and who aren't, isn't always obvious and clear cut, Alfred. "

Thinking back on it, Arthur had a lot of dark times in his history, particularly during his empire years. Even more so during his pirate years. England had stepped on quite a few toes. But it was best not to dwell on the past.

Alfred got quiet for a minute. Arthur wondered what was going on in his mind.

"What's right is always right and what's wrong is always wrong. Heroes do the right thing. The right thing is obvious. So the person who is the hero is obvious!"

Alfred had a triumphant look on his face. He obviously thought it was a bulletproof argument. England supposed, from America's point of view, it was a bulletproof argument, since he tended to be an absolutist. Heroes are the good guys who do good things. Villains are the bad guys, and they do bad things.

"Shut up and put the movie in the DVD player, idiot."

"Ha ha ha! You're just mad because I win!"

America grabbed the movie out of England's hands in one swift motion. He ran across the living room in the utmost dramatic fashion, jumping over the couch and landing just infront of the DVD player. America took the DVD of 12 Angry Men out, then put Rashomon in. England plopped onto the couch, and America joined him after pressing play.

* * *

AN: I hope this story is turning out alright. I felt America was a little OOC, being all disappointed when England hung up on him, so that's why America was so silly in the last half. I felt the need to even it out.

I'd like to know how I am doing so far. Pretty please review?

Good or bad, I'd love to hear from you.


	3. Secret Test Of Character

No One Would Know: Secret Test Of Character

_**Japan's POV, A Quiet Corner In A British Pub**_

Kiku used to have a crush on Alfred. Maybe he still did. Once you got to know Alfred, It was hard not to. For all of his faults, Alfred was so lively and exuberant …

That, however, was not a productive line of thought. Besides which, Kiku's inner otaku decided that USxUK was much cuter. The world had been kept waiting too long-this 'will they or won't they?' stuff was getting old. A single picture, any picture, would answer the question once and for all. Though England didn't like it, Kiku insisted. It was the price of enlisting Japan's help: once Alfred fell for Arthur, Kiku must be allowed to sneak a picture of the two together. (And it had to be a sneak picture: wouldn't be any fun otherwise.) In turn, England demanded that said picture must be kept PG. Kiku agreed.

The short, dark haired nation let himself sink into the shadows. Japan could not pass for a normal British citizen, for obvious reasons. However, it wouldn't be terribly difficult to outfox America. Japan had settled into a quiet corner in a quiet British pub about ten minutes ago.

It had been a month since England and Japan had started working together. England was hanging out with Alfred probably twice a week. From what England had been telling Japan, America hadn't gotten the message yet. So Japan wanted to watch England and America interact. Maybe he'd be able to tell what the problem was.

Plus, Japan felt that he was on a lucky streak today. _Something_ interesting was bound to happen.

The heavy wooden doors at the entrance were, at that moment, flung open with about ten times as much force as necessarily. As Japan had correctly guessed, it was America. He strolled in like he owned the place. Knowing America, it wouldn't surprise Japan if the nation intended to own it someday.

England trailed behind, out of breath and yelling at America in some British slang that Japan didn't understand. Japan brought a newspaper to his face. He watched through a small hole in the paper.

_**America's POV **_

England was yelling something or other at America, which the younger nation purposely ignored. That was the best way to get back at him for whatever insult. Every time the Brit used British slang, Alfred would mock him and pretend as if it were ancient Greek. After a few drinks, England's eyebrows would furrow angrily. Then he'd go on a tirade against American English, hamburgers and, of all things, redheads. The part about redheads was probably directed at one of England's brothers.

And then he'd threaten Alfred with Busby's chair. Whatever that was.

Honestly, Alfred was stunned that Arthur had agreed to go drinking again. They'd gone to an American bar earlier this week (a _bar, _not a pub, and England only argued about it a little), and England got groped probably twenty times that night. Mostly because Americans girls love British accents. He thought back on in with a smile. Alfred couldn't admit it out loud, but his country got their fascination from him. It was hilarious, though England didn't think so. Of course, this time, England insisted on going to a pub.

A few more drinks later, Arthur was spouting nonsense about Japan and his camera. Alfred was really confused. He didn't understand what Kiku's camera had to do with _anything. _But he let Arthur keep talking anyway.

"I take his camera away and…er, don't I have some*hic*…some pirate treasure? It's buried somewhere. Eh…I bury the *hic*camera in that place…that'll show him."

"You have PIRATE TREASURE? WOOHOO! Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me!"

Arthur's head hit the counter with a loud thud. He started snoring.

The American waved for the bartender. Alfred guessed that they owed about a hundred dollars, so he placed a hundred dollar bill on the counter. He got off of his seat with a slight wobble. He lifted Arthur and draped the sleeping man over his shoulders. America stumbled a little, but didn't fall or drop England.

"We'll do the pirate treasure hunt next week, Iggy. Just you watch. It'll be a heroic adventure."

_**Japan's POV**_

It wasn't what Japan was hoping for, but he did get the cutest picture of Alfred carrying Arthur. The picture did not prove anything one way or the other. Still, he decided it was worthwhile to come anyway. Japan learned that his advice was indeed working. America was being noticeably nicer to England. Just not when England was sober.

In what some nations might consider a brief fit of insanity, Japan decided to call up Italy and Germany. He wondered what they were doing these days.

_**America's POV, England's House**_

The pub wasn't very far from England's house. It was a place that blond went to all the time. It was only five blocks away, in fact. Alfred got him there in no time.

Alfred didn't have a key, so he got a credit card out of his wallet and slid it through the cracks in the door. Arthur's door was just barely too small for the doorframe, so the American could break in without damaging it. He strode in to Arthur's house, extremely proud of himself for leaving no signs of entry. Arthur would have killed Alfred if he knew.

The American flicked the light switch. Light flooded the house. Alfred noticed it was ten times cleaner than his place. The show-off.

Alfred took England to his bedroom, laying him down gently over the bed. England was snoring loudly, which made Alfred laugh.

Unlike all the other times he was around the other nation, England wasn't glaring. His face wasn't contorted in anger or frustration. He wasn't looking at America with the condescending look he always has on his face, eyebrows furrowed in disgust. He wasn't looking at America like that because he wasn't looking at America at all.

Arthur was sleeping soundly. With his eyes closed, he looked gentle and peaceful. Alfred stared for a minute in silence.

A voice in America's head told him, '_You could do anything you want, and no one would know.'_

"What are you talking about? What would I do to Iggy?"

Arthur stirred. For a moment, Alfred thought he would wake up. But it was a false alarm. Alfred put his hand on Arthur's chest to make sure the man was okay. He felt the smaller nation's smooth breathing, chest rising and falling slowly. The Englishman was warm-very warm.

Alfred sat down next to him, and leaned forward to get a better look at Arthur's sleeping face. His mind told him he could do anything to Arthur he wanted. But Alfred didn't understand what that meant. What did he want to do to Arthur?

Normally he would have played some kick-ass prank, just to see the other's face in the morning. He never had to think about it, though. If it was like one of his pranks, Alfred would have already done it. Was Alfred, horror of horrors, becoming a _serious _person?

_Draw on his face? _America didn't think so. _Cut his hair? Shave off his eyebrows? _ America shook his head as soon as he thought it. As he stared down on England's face, the American decided that the eyebrows should definitely be left alone.

Alfred thought he knew the answer, somewhere deep down. Deep down was where the thought was going to stay. Instinct told him it wasn't a very nice thing to do, whatever it was he wanted to do. Instead, he took a blanket out of Arthur's closet. Gently, he placed it over the Englishman's sleeping form. Then he left the room.

Briefly, he wondered if this was what Kiku meant the other day, when the island nation said that Alfred was 'willfully ignorant'.

_Kiku said, in a low, uncertain tone, "Alfred, you do these things on purpose, don't you?"_

_Puzzled, the American responded, "Of course I do everything on purpose. I think, 'put one foot in front of the other' and the brain does it, right? How else would you do it? "_

_Kiku's eyes darkened. "That's not what I mean, Alfred-san!"_

"_Then whaddaya mean?" Alfred asked. "Hey, I know. Let's play a game." He jumped into the air, thumbs up. "Brilliant idea, right?"_

"_You __**choose**__ to not understand. You are willfully ignorant."_

"_What are you talking about, Kiku? You're speaking nonsense."_

_The Japanese man stared hard at Alfred. He wondered if Kiku meant to challenge him. Sometimes, there were moments like this between them. The other man would become angry with Alfred, and Alfred felt like he should have known why, but of course he did not. Silence would pass between the two for a few painfully long seconds. _

_The darkness in Kiku's eyes lifted. Kiku always eventually gave in, for reasons Alfred could not comprehend. _

"_Yes, let's play a game. But I choose this time, Alfred-san."_

He shook the memory from his mind. Alfred wandered over to the kitchen and took a soda from Arthur's fridge. The young nation pulled a burger from one of his infinite burger pockets. Food would help. Maybe he'd understand better if he had some food in his stomach. _Who can think on an empty stomach? _

The voice in his mind spoke again. _No one would know, Alfred._

This time, he was prepared with an answer. _I would know.  
_

_**A Couple Hours Later, England's POV, England's Bedroom**_

England had never been able to hold his liquor very well. In the past three weeks, though, he was starting to get a little better at it. It wasn't that he was getting used to it. No, he still got as completely piss-drunk as ever. Rather, England was recovering faster.

_How do you preserve your dignity after passing out in a pub, and waking up, in bed, to find your shirt removed? _**What the hell, America?**

England checked under the covers. He still had his pants on. Yes, he had to lift the blanket to know that-England was still a little drunk. Thank the gods. If he still had his pants on, that had to mean nothing happened yet.

Alfred walked in, minus the jacket he always wears and holding up one of Arthur's shirts. "Ah, Iggy. You're awake."

Arthur jumped off the bed, "WHY DID YOU TAKE OFF MY SHIRT?"

"What?"

"WHY DID YOU TAKE OFF MY SHIRT?" After a pause, "YOU'RE JUST LIKE FRANCE!"

"What? I am not." America held his hands up in the air, waving England's shirt. "I was just changing your shirt! See, this is a fresh shirt. Look."

America tossed the shirt in England's face. It smelled…clean. It was also a different shirt than the one he was wearing earlier. So, America _really _was telling the truth. Or so it appeared, anyway.

England's face flushed. "Er…fine then, but why were you changing my shirt?" Dreading the most obvious answer, England put his hand to his mouth and sniffed his breath. He almost gagged. Oh yeah, he had definitely vomited. On his shirt. In front of America, obviously. Arthur prayed that he hadn't vomited on Alfred. If he did, he might die of embarrassment right then.

Now that he was aware of the fact he had vomited, Arthur could taste it in his mouth. It was nauseating. How did he not notice this a minute ago?

He ran to the bathroom. Arthur turned on the sink and washed his face, then gargled some water. He needed to get that awful taste out of his mouth. After washing his face, arms, and chest, he put on the shirt America gave him. It had a British flag on it.

As he walked out of the bathroom, America greeted him, "Feel better, England?"

England didn't answer. America continued, "You're too old to be drinking that much alcohol. You should watch yourself. Maybe I'll buy your country next time you're so drunk."

"I will never sell my country to you, you git! No matter HOW drunk I get."

"Ha ha, you fell for it. I wasn't really going to buy this place. Too cold here."

America waved at England. "Hey, I'll see ya later." He walked out of the room. Leaving England very confused. _HEY! Honestly, who does that? You just up and leave in the middle of a conversation? _ England grabbed a coat from his closet and wobbled after America so he could scold him.

"Ameri-" England stopped himself mid-scold.

Alfred had halted at the door, mumbling something to himself. "A hero doesn't take advantage of people, even if they were the villain of the story."

Arthur's eyebrows twitched, "Who are you calling a villain?"

"No one! Just saying. The kind of hero anyone would wanna be, wouldn't do that." An awkward moment passed. Then Alfred walked right out the door.

* * *

AN: I had a lot of fun writing suspicious!England and confused!America. I left out the part where England actually vomits, because no one wants to see that. Secondly, it would have made Alfred's decision to not molest England too easy if it happened while Alfred was still deciding. Rereading this chapter since I finished it, it occurs to me that I may have tricked you into thinking Alfred _had _done something funny to Arthur after all. Heheh. Sorry if you got confused.

This chapter was a little too serious for my liking, though. I have to return to the silliness next chapter.

This time, Alfred taught himself the lesson. Review? *puppy dog eyes*


	4. Juvenile Prankster?

AN: I'd like to thank PinkPanther123, xxqeltt, and Sally Elric for reviewing. I really appreciate it! I am dedicating this chapter to a friend of mine who emailed me a youtube video which was the source of inspiration for this chapter. YourDangerousMind, you are awesome.

This is going to be a two-parter chapter, so the normal lecture/lesson will not come until the end of the second part.

I do not own Hetalia or Star Wars.

Pt 1, Juvenile Prankster

_**France's POV, Talking To Italy On The Phone, France's House**_

"Big brother France! Japan came over to visit me and Germany yesterday. It was fun! We were eating pasta and wursts, and he came over to say hello, and Japan brought his camera with him-"

"Slow down, _Italy_. " "I'm sorry! Ve." France heard Italy sniffle.

He laughed to himself. Francis said, voice smooth as silk, "Now, go on. Tell big brother France all about it."

"Japan has his camera with him. When Germany wasn't looking and Japan went to the bathroom, I looked at the pictures he took. The pictures were all of America and England, and they were all labeled 'Operation US x UK' at the bottom, ve! What does that mean? "

France's eyes shone with a perverted glint. _Ah, the moment that the entire world has been waiting for has arrived. _"Do you have any of the pictures,Italy?"

"No, Japan took the pictures with him when he left."

"Ah. What do the pictures show?"

"America and England at a bar, and at the park, ve!"

"Are they doing anything _interesting? _"

"The pictures were pretty! In one of them, America was carrying England."

Francis was a bit disappointed. He'd hoped for more revealing photos. There was one part of what Italy said that was interesting, though.

"Italy, what was it again that the pictures say?"

"Operation US x UK. What does that mean, big brother France?"

Francis thought about it a moment. So, Japan had cute pictures of America and England, clearly labeled with the two countries' initials, US x UK, as young lovers might carve their names into a tree. Except it was Japan who did the carving for them, apparently_? _

But then, it made sense when Francis remembered an incident where Japan took photos of cosplayers at an anime convention. The Eastern nation had done the same exact thing with certain anime couples he preferred.

Japan was _shipping_ America and England.

"Le gasp! It means that America and Englandwill soon be in _amour_! And the rumors about Japan are true."

"What rumors?" France heard a crash over the phone. It had to be…" But Germany….Nooooo, I want to talk to France some more!"

He sighed. He wanted to ask Italy a little more about the pictures, but France did not want to cross Ludwig. At least, he didn't want to cross Ludwig if he had to be in the same room later on with the serious nation: it just wouldn't do if Germany was trying to kill France at the World Conference.

Over the phone, Feliciano was pleading with the German. He heard Germany talking about him: "_he's a bad influence… and he's an indiscreet, unapologetic pervert. You really need to be more careful, Italy."_

France decided to make things simpler. He said, "Italy? I will talk to you some other time. I must get ready for the World Conference."

"Oh. Okay, ve! Bye, France."

Italy hung up. Francis thought about the delicious new piece of gossip he had. _Operation US x UK? Or perhaps, it might be called USUK, _France thought, letting his mind run wild. And then there was the fact Japan was filming those two. Of course, France had always suspected it. America and England bickered like an old married couple. As for Japan, _hehe, well, _Francis happened to know a few things interesting things about certain pieces of Japanese art…

This whole thing was just too good to pass up. France had to pass it along. Who should he call first? Hungary? Spain? Or maybe he could tease England.

France took a mirror out of his pocket to admire himself with. Bright blue eyes shined back at him, his mouth forming a sly grin. France was the country of love, after all. There had to be something he could do to speed things up. Still, he doubted that England would listen to him for more than two seconds about the art of courtship. England was paranoid.

France chuckled. It was not without good reason, of course. Many times had he groped, manhandled, or otherwise touched the Englishman inappropriately. Arthur would never in a million years listen to romantic advice from Francis.

Come to think of it, was there anyone that England actually would listen to? France couldn't think of a single nation or person.

So, talking to England was a dead end. Was there anyone America would listen to? Francis frowned. If anything, America was even worse than England in that regard. How could US x UK's blossoming love work like this? It was a tragedy in the making, really.

A perverted grin made its way onto Francis's face. There was perhaps one nation that might be close to America. He could only hope. This was for the sake of love.

_**Later On, Canada's POV, In The Lobby At The World Conference Meeting**_

Mattie wondered if he would ever be able to lift himself out from under his brother's shadow.

As Mattie wondered that, Alfred burst in the lobby, shouting and laughing like a maniac. If he ever did get noticed, the quieter nation knew it wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Seeing his obnoxious brother stampeding his way, Mattie quickly changed his mind about wanting to be noticed. Mattie buried his face in Kujamiro's fur,* hoping Alfred would run right past him. Just before the American crashed into him, Mattie could see the glimmer of recognition in the other's eyes. It was just his luck that the one time he wanted to be invisible, it was impossible. The North American brothers fell to the floor.

Alfred jumped back up on his feet and yanked Mattie up. "Oh, hi, Mattie! I didn't know you were coming."

"It's a world meeting, isn't it?" Canada said to himself, "I'm part of the world."

The two began walking toward the Conference room. On the way, they passed an irate Switzerland with his sister following. Switzerland apparently thought that America was being careless and had almost bumped into Liechtenstein. America drove him away without too much argument, though.

The brothers skipped along the hall. Or, rather, Alfred skipped and Mattie followed. As they walked, Alfred asked Canada all the usual stuff: how are you, when's the next hockey night, can you teach me to make pancakes like yours, etc. Then Alfred started talking about all the things he'd been up to lately. Matthew noticed that an awful lot of it involved England. Apparently, they were hanging out together about twice a week.

"England's been less of a grouch lately. He even went to a bar!"

Canada thought of what France asked him to do earlier.

' _America and England are clearly in love, no? They just need a push in the right direction. You will push America onto the path of amour! Do this favor for Papa France?'_

Mattie said, "Really? Maple."

Alfred nodded. "And he barely even argued at all! I think he's losing his touch."

Canada noticed his brother was smiling in an odd way. As if he might be daydreaming? It caught Matthew's attention right away. Did Alfred always smile like that?

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense._ Oh no, Francis might be right. _Matthew hugged Kumarijo for reassurance. _Those two and their fights…it will be a thousand times worse if they become a couple._

Canada said, "You haven't played a prank on England for an entire month. " Mattie hadn't noticed until he blurted it out loud, but it was true. America hadn't pranked his former guardian in a while. It was curious.

"Oh, yeah, you're right. Well, it's too easy anyway. A hero needs more of a challenge."

Canada tried to remember the last prank America pulled. America had persuaded him to help, if he remembered it right. Something to do with England's clothes? And a tape recorder? He forgot whatever it was, since it hadn't worked.

_If my brother is not trying to harass England anymore, and even wants to spend time with him, does that mean…?_

The shy brother blurted out, "WhatdoyouthinkofEngland?"

"Huh? What?"Alfred stopped walking and stared at Matthew. He almost lost his nerve.

Why the heck was he listening to France anyway? Mattie considered Francis a friend, but the guy was an incurable pervert. He might just be seeing what he wanted to see. _But…I didn't just imagine that daydreaming look on America's face a minute ago. There's something there._

Mattie pressed, "England. What do you think of him?"

"He's okay, for a stuffy British guy. Why?"

Not helpful. Matthew sighed. "Eh, you'll figure it out sooner or later."

Mattie left Alfred confused in the hall. He opened the door to the meeting room. The Canadian was met with silent stares. All the countries thought him to be America. Unlike all the other times, though, a few of the countries sensed there was something not quite right about 'America'. He took a seat. Whispers travelled across the room. '_Is that really him? This guy doesn't act like him.'_

Kumijaro, the pet polar bear Canada took everywhere, asked, "Who are you?"

At least three or four countries were listening, eager to uncover the identity of America's doppelganger.

Canada replied softly, "I'm Canada."

_**Three Hours Later, England's POV, World Conference**_

He had been sitting here for three hours now. It was excruciating. Arthur felt like a total idiot, too. Why the hell had he agreed to go drinking the night before the World Conference? Ugh. As much as he hated to admit it, the Englishman couldn't do it. Drinking+ hangover haze+ international politics = no, just no. Arthur had a pounding headache, both from the hangover and from listening to the other nations prattle on. It was currently Germany's turn. The nation's harsh, angry sounding voice was not helping. He missed most of what Germany was saying. The headache was damn distracting. Worse, he knew that once Germany stopped talking, he was slotted to go next.

On the plus side, at least the hangover distracted him from Alfred. Well, it distracted him from having any dirty thoughts about Alfred. Arthur was trying to glare the nation to death and casting a deadly magic spell in his thoughts. Well, _thinking of_ a deadly magic spell in Alfred's general direction. The lovestruck Brit would not actually cast a deadly spell if he thought it would seriously hurt the American. If anyone asked, though, he'd deny it.

Alfred sat there smiling, across the table. Completely unaware of England's death-stare. It really burned him up that America could ignore him so easily. America was chatting animatedly with his brother Canada. He was actually bouncing in his seat. Yes, bouncing, like a little child might.

Someone poked England in the ribs. A smooth, infuriatingly smug voice said, "England, it's your turn."

He turned to face a wavy-haired blond man sitting next to him, "Shut up, you wine-drinking bastard. I know."

France laughed, "Ah, were you daydreaming about someone _special? _Did I interrupt?"

"Bloody hell, do you EVER think about anything else? You perverted frog!"

England rubbed his eyes and got up from his seat. As he took a step toward the chalkboard at the other end of the room, he noticed a strange noise. When he stopped, the noise stopped. The other nations were staring, whispering among themselves. He took another step, and heard a noise following him again.

Weird. He continued toward the other end of the room. As he walked, the noise became coherent. It was a theme he had heard at least a hundred times before: the Imperial March, _Darth Vader, the Empire's theme,_ from _that blasted movie of Alfred's…_

He stopped walking about halfway through, but it was too late. Three-quarters of the room had recognized it, and most were now laughing their asses off. Various nations were humming along while Arthur walked.

~Dun dun dun, duh, da-dun, duh, da-dun~

~Bam bam bam, ba, ba-bam, ba, ba-bam~

~Hm hm hm, huh, ha-hum, huh, ha-hum~**

As Arthur passed Italy, the brunet spoke up, "What's that, ve? How did England get his own theme song?"

Arthur's eyebrows twitched.

Germany said, "It's a childish prank. Perpetrated by America, no doubt."

England stomped his way to the front, fists clenched, making the effect worse. His face darkened. _I'll show you an empire. _Arthur planted his feet in front of the chalkboard.

Just in front of him, China was laughing. England glared at him until he stopped. China whispered, "Where's your sense of humor, aru?"

Japan was one of the few who weren't laughing. England was grateful for that. Arthur saw Kiku sneak a glance several seats behind him, at Alfred.

_Alfred…_

_**Japan's POV**_

He sighed. America was absolutely impossible. The tall, sandy haired nation was too much for Japan's matchmaking skills to handle. How was he supposed to help England if America was going to take every opportunity to embarrass Arthur like this? England spent the entire presentation glowering at the world. The blond managed to scare most nations in the room into behaving themselves, though there was still some snickering.

Kiku would have been completely appalled by something that cheeky twenty or thirty years ago. He had started to get used to such immature pranks over the years, though it still shocked him.

Japan looked over in Alfred's direction, half pleading, half demanding, into the air, _Why are you making this difficult! _

Strangely, Alfred did not appear to be enjoying his little joke. _He must be fearing England's wrath already, _Kiku decided.

When England was finished speaking, Canada politely asked that the conference take a ten minute bathroom break. France seconded the motion. Austria and Hungary also offered their support for a bathroom break. Prussia opposed for no real reason, but the motion passed anyway.

_**America's POV**_

It was really funny a month ago when he'd thought it up. The idea of watching Iggy walk around, angry and screaming curses to the tune of Darth Vader's theme was hilarious then. So why did Alfred's stomach hurt now that it actually happened?

He left the conference room and closed the door behind him slowly. Alfred jogged to the bathroom.

* * *

*Canada cannot remember Kumajiro's exact name, just as Kumajiro cannot remember who Canada is.

**I've heard a lot of people hum it very differently, and yet the theme was still recognizable. I suppose it has to do with phonetics or something? Like how the sound cats make would be called meow in English, but in Japanese, the same sound would be described as nyaa. Does my rambling make any sense? For the record, I think it's mraow.

AN: Oh yeah, and the video I got the idea from is here: h t t p : / / w w w . y o u t u b e . c o m / w a t c h ? v = 7 z h 6 S x _ A i 6 c


	5. Juvenile Prankster? Pt2

Juvenile Prankster Pt 2

_**Canada's POV**_

His brother Alfred was one of the first to leave. Was it Mattie's imagination, or did he look a bit green?

Just about the entire world shuffled out of the conference room. In fact, only three countries were left: England, France, and Japan. England was sitting in his chair, trying to shove France off of him,- while France had his arms wrapped tightly around the shorter man. Japan was standing five feet away from them, blushing lightly. As Canada approached, all three nations snapped their heads in his direction. Arthur and Kiku looked as if they were going to chew him out, though neither did. Francis got up and greeted Mattie in French. During their hug, he deftly avoided the Frenchman's wandering hands.

Canada took the seat on England's right. The blond nation looked hostile.

"I'm Canada, remember?" Hostility turned into confusion.

Mattie sighed, "I'm in the Commonwealth. Alfred's brother. The quiet one. _Matthew?_"

Arthur blinked, then said, "Mattie?"

"Yeah. Uh, it's your tie. I-If you loosen or take it off, the music will stop."

England immediately tore off his tie and threw it on the floor. The short nation stood up and walked from one end of the room to the other. As the nation passed his own seat, he stomped on his tie a good three or four times. Once the Englishman was satisfied that Matthew's advice had indeed worked, he sat back down. The two other nations in the room kept silent.

Matthew was waiting for Arthur to respond. The older nation was giving him that all-knowing stare a parent gives their kids, or teachers give their students when the little ones did something wrong. It's the one that's supposed incite guilt; make the kid want to confess.

"Mattie, did you participate in America's prank?"

Sensing a lecture on the horizon, he mentally prepared himself. In childhood, he picked up a little trick from Alfred to deal with Arthur's intimidating parent-mode. Canada stared at England's giant eyebrows. It was a lot easier to talk back to a pair of bushy eyebrows than England's harsh stare.

Matthew spoke softly, yet unwavering. "I was the one who went through your stuff, and, I put the recorder in your tie. Alfred didn't go anywhere near your house."

Technically, what he said was accurate. He never said it was his idea, but if the way Matthew chose his words led England to think so…

Instead, Francis spoke, "What are you trying to accomplish here, Mathieu?" He didn't answer.

Arthur said, "Why would you do something so stupid? You're supposed to be the reasonable one."

Mattie was distracted for a moment. He thought he saw movement in his peripheral vision. The violet eyed nation ignored it, though, and refocused his eyes on Arthur's silly eyebrows.

"Maybe I wanted to be noticed, for once. "

"By pulling the same kind of idiotic stunt America would do!"

_**America's POV, Hallway**_

No one had invented teleportation technology yet, as far as Al knew. _Or had they?_ Despite being the second or third person out the door, somehow the line for the restrooms already overflowed into the hallway. One of the nation-tans came out of the restroom to inform everyone that there was a clog. The nations in line collectively groaned.

Someone America didn't recognize shouted, "That'll make us late!"

A petite, brown haired nation (Lithuania, Alfred remembered) offered to fix it.

America turned back around and started heading for the conference room. No one would be there right now, so maybe he could lie his head down for a few minutes without anyone seeing.

Alfred wasn't physically sick or anything, so he didn't understand why all of a sudden he'd be having stomach troubles. Of course, England or France or any of the other nations would probably say it was because of his hamburgers. Canada would probably say something silly, like '_You're feeling sick because you feel bad.'_

Alfred tried to imagine Arthur in a Darth Vader costume. The image didn't look right at all: the costume was WAY too big for the Brit to fit. The clothes hung loosely on the nation's frame. Both the large cape and the helmet exaggerated Iggy's smaller body size.

_Okay, so Iggy is not Darth Vader. _

In the midst of his daydreaming, the young nation crashed into another person. It was Japan. The far eastern nation quickly pulled himself up and dusted off his white uniform.

"America-san! Don't you have any sense of honor?"

Puzzled, America replied, "I didn't crash into you on purpose! If I was going to do anything to you-well, I wouldn't, because you're a friend."

Kiku shook his head. "No, I mean your brother. Canada is your brother, isn't he? Why are you letting him take the blame for your foolishness?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your brother is trying to take the blame for that stunt you pulled on England. You should take responsibility, Alfred!"

Alfred mumbled a quick thanks to Kiku and sped off toward the conference room. Being a strong and agile young nation, it only took America about a minute to get there. Kiku followed a few feet behind. At the door, the two nations heard muffled shouting. It sounded like England and France bickering.

"My dear Mathieu is not responsible!"

"Shut up, frog. Who in their right mind would cover for that idiot anyway?"

America chose that moment to nearly break down the door. The three nations fell silent when he barged in, Japan right behind him. He ignored the wavy-haired Frenchman and his quiet brother. The young nation sought a pair of green eyes. As soon as he caught England's attention, he burst out:

"Canada didn't do the prank. It was me."

Arthur took about ten seconds to process that. Then-

"WHY THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU DO THAT? You idiot! You've ruined a serious conference about-"

"It seemed like it fit. I didn't know it would make you so upset,"

Arthur stopped talking. He stared up at Alfred as if the nation had spawned a second head.

The taller nation felt someone stomp on his foot. He caught a flash of violet eyes, and felt something being stuffed into his pocket. When Arthur did a facepalm that would make Captain Picard proud, Alfred took the note out and read it.

_Try something a little different this time. 'I'm sorry, England.' If it doesn't work, I'll buy you a hundred hamburgers._

"You didn't think I'd be upset about it? Well, I'm not UPSET! I'M-"

"I'm sorry, England."

"…America?"

He caught England's eyes. They were wide, probably from shock and/or disbelief. He noticed the green color in particular. It wasn't a very common color, though a few other nation-tans had green eyes. It was the rarest color, and some people said it would disappear in a few centuries altogether.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Well…I accept your apology, as a gentleman should." A few seconds silence past, then he continued, "See, was that so hard?" The blond man mumbled something about Alfred being stupid, but there was no venom in it.

At least Alfred's stomach didn't hurt anymore.

_**England's POV, Six Hours Later, Conference**_

Not even an entire six hours of the world droning on and on could distract Arthur from his thoughts. He wondered if he had finally cracked. From what he remembered, that American had actually apologized to him.

Well, France and...who else? Mattie. France, Mattie and Japan had been there, so maybe he could ask one of them for confirmation.

_Wait a tick. Why I am making such a big deal about an apology anyway, even if it's from that idiot? That's what you're __**supposed to do**__._

Right then, Switzerland was the nation who had the floor. Though he might be risking his life by not paying attention, England was staring at Alfred again. Staring at those bright blue eyes, that glowing face that radiated happiness, Arthur wanted it for himself. If he admitted his feelings to Alfred, would the young nation feel the same, or would America dash his hopes?

Switzerland ended his speech abruptly, after which Germany called Japan up to the front. Japan thanked him, and started his own speech about Japan's economy.

_**America's POV**_

America did have an obsession with movies and stories, truthfully. It affected his outlook on the world. Like an adventure story, Alfred often thought the world was divided clearly into heroes, the heroes' friends or family, damsels-in-distress, villains, and bystanders.

America was the hero of the story, of course. At the beginning of the story, when Alfred choose him over France, England was family. When America declared himself independent, America called England a villain. When the war was over, and England chose to not kill Alfred, the newly independent nation didn't know what role England fit. One of those honorable villains, maybe?

England played too big a role in America's life to be considered a bystander.

Alfred whispered to his brother, "Psst…if England were in a story, what kind of role would he have?"

"He isn't a Darth Vader, I guess…" Mattie shrugged. "I think France made him dress up like Leia once. It was a bet._"*_

Alfred tried to imagine Arthur in a loose fitting white dress, with his hair in a double bun. Arthur Kirkland, rebel jedi princess?The eyebrows kind of ruined the image. That was okay with the American. The Brit just wasn't the same without those insane eyebrows.

_**England's POV**_

England was still feeling hazy, but he remembered Kiku talking to him the other day about his nation. In addition to debt, the country of Japan was having an aging population problem. Francis raised a hand to suggest Kiku put aphrodisiacs and fertility drugs in his people's food supply. Kiku got very flustered and started to protest, but Prussia cut him off.

"WHO WANTS TO SEE A HORNY JAPAN? Vote awesome if you agree!"

"That would be interesting, da?"

"Shingihan! But Japan's breasts still belong to Korea."

"Japan is male, he doesn't have breasts, aru. And neither do I, aru!"

Poland interrupted, "Like, everyone does, even men. They're just, like, smaller."

Korea beamed. "The nation of South Korea claims Poland's-"

A brash, angry voice broke in. It was Switzerland. "This is a serious conference!"

Kiku continued once the laughter died down. After Japan was done talking, however, most of the nations were now pushing France's solution, if only to see what would happen to the serious man. The world was unable to muster a majority vote on any solution, though.

Arthur's mind-and eventually, eyes-kept wandering back to the same two chairs. One brother was smiling happily and chatting, while the other hid his face behind a mess of polar-bear fur. The Brit was amazed that twins could be so strikingly different. Arthur had to admit, (and he felt a pang of guilt over it) that his affection for Alfred always overshadowed Matthew. He really did care about the both of them, just in different ways.

England still heard arguments buzzing around the conference room, though he wasn't paying attention. The Prime Minister probably wouldn't like it when he found out England ignored the entire conference, but Arthur didn't really care.

Switzerland had another outburst, this time trying to keep Russia in line. The rest of the world was grateful for it. Since it was fairly clear at that point the meeting was going in circles, Germany stood up and shushed everyone.

"That's the end of that matter. Does any nation have anything else they wish to bring to our attention?"

No one spoke. "Very well. I, Germany, as chairman, dismiss this conference if there are no objections. The world will reconvene in one month."

Everyone got up and shuffled slowly towards the exit. There was a little bit of grumbling here and there, though most of it was silenced with a look from Ludwig.

England immediately headed for America, but another nation beat him to it. Wang Yao got there first, presumably after the money America owed.

England ended up staring again, watching the clash between Alfred and Yao. Their discussion seemed to be mostly civil; Yao considered Alfred to be a very good customer, and even Alfred wasn't going to be _deliberately _rude to the guy he bought all his stuff from. Alfred kept trying to leave, but Yao was blocking the door. After about five or ten minutes of it, China just decided to charge more for everything the American bought rather than collect the debt. Yao figured it would eventually even out.

Arthur wondered what he saw in Alfred.

_**Canada's POV**_

Who knew that all it took was the promise of a hundred hamburgers to get America to actually say sorry? Canada gave his brother that note, but he didn't actually believe Al would do it. Matthew got up from his seat, followed by Kujamiro.

He caught his brother trying to avoid paying his debt to China. From the frustrated look on Yao's face, it looked like Alfred was succeeding. Once China left, Canada approached his brother. He tapped his brother's shoulders lightly. The American snapped his head around and gave Matthew a big grin.

"Hey Mattie! When's the next hockey night?"

"It's next Friday. Hey, uh, Alfred…it was very mature of you to apologize."

"Of course. You promised on a hundred hamburgers that it would work."

Mattie's voice dropped a little lower than usual. "Is that the _only _reason you apologized to England?"

"It's just a prank. We do it all the time to England, and he's fine, right?"

"I suppose that's true."

There was an awkward pause. Then Matthew continued, "I can't believe there was all that tension over a joke."

"The old fart has no sense of humor. "

Mattie nodded while Alfred chatted away. Through the corner of his, eyes, he spotted England approaching. England looked a little nervous.

"-and so that's how a hero…hey, Iggy's here. Hi England!"

Canada sighed. Not one minute ago, his brother had been complaining about England. Alfred was_ impossible._

_Well, I guess I might as well leave them alone. I do have work to do._

_**America's POV**_

"-and so that's how a hero…"

Alfred saw England walking by himself just ten feet away. He decided to try and invite Iggy into the conversation. The American didn't think Mattie was listening anyway, so why not?

"Hey, Iggy's here. Hi England!"

England caught up to them and grumbled 'hello, America,' more or less what Alfred expected. However, he greeted America's brother much more warmly. The superpower frowned at this.

"Hello, Canada. "

Alfred glanced at Mattie. "H-hello, England. Eh…I was actually just leaving, if you don't mind."

"You're going?"

"Yes, I, um, left the…pancakes…in the microwave. Bye!"

The violet-eyed brother picked up his bear and scurried away too fast for England to respond. Alfred didn't mean to drive his brother away, but he was a little relieved, for some odd reason. Maybe he could get England to hand out with him again.

Alfred flashed a grin at Arthur. "Hey, England. Let's go eat, I'm hungry!"

"I'm not eating hamburgers with you_ again_."

"How about hot dogs?"

"No."

"Pizza!"

"No."

"Aw, come on."

"I am the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. I have more important things to do today than babysit you."

England was about to leave. America was watching him, and it took a full three seconds to realize where his gaze had landed. The nation blushed.

Before he knew it, he blurted out, "Hey, England, why don't we eat some of your food?"

"My food?" Arthur turned toward Alfred.

"Yeah."

Alfred's stomach growled. _What am I doing? _

_**A few hours later, at England's house…**_

Alfred knew that nobody had asked England to cook for them in years. There was a good reason for that.

The sandy-haired American had begun a staring contest with the scones he had been served. They were only _slightly_ burnt, England said. Burnt scones were the most awful smell in the world, Alfred decided.

_Just say no! YOU'LL DIE IF YOU EAT THAT THING! _

Alfred looked up at England's face. Wary green eyes stared back. Arthur seemed to be preparing himself for an insult, or a punch to the face.

_Al, this is not the time or place to grow a sense of consideration for others. _

The American wolfed the scones down to get it over with.

There was a faint smile on Arthur's face.

_**England's POV, Hours Later**_

Alfred was playing videogames in the living room. Where the American had gotten a Wii, Arthur wasn't sure. Then again, if the nation had enough room in his clothes to store hundreds of hamburgers, a Wii might not be so farfetched.

It already felt like a week had passed since the Darth Vader prank from that morning. There was one thing that had been bugging him all day, though.

"America?"

"Lerphmee sabe firsh."(1)

"Take that bloody thing out of your mouth and speak properly, you idiot."

"Yessh, mm."

Alfred paused his game and put the hamburger away. The blue eyed nation was gazing intently into Arthur's eyes. He sat attentively at Arthur's feet. The older blonde had to suppress the thoughts that popped up into his mind. Arthur sat on the couch.

"Why do a lot of villains in your movies have British accents?"

Alfred thought about it for a second. "No reason."

"Do you have a problem with British people?"

Alfred shook his head. "You guys are one of our closest allies."

"Then why the British accents for villains?"

"Well, it sounds all, you know, upper-class and sophisticated…and stuff."

_Sophisticated? _

Alfred jumped up. "Hey, Iggy, let's watch a movie."

_**America's POV, Ten Minutes Later**_

They settled for watching until it was dark. America wanted to watch scary movies, but it just wasn't the same in the daytime. The show they were watching wasn't one Alfred watched regularly, but he was still able to enjoy it. Well, the parts he understood.

"Why are all the other characters trying to ditch the hero?"

England said, "They're trying to leave him alone with the girl. Those two have been tiptoeing around each other the entire series."

"Ha ha, good luck. The hero and the girl always wait until the end to hook-up. It's more dramatic that way!"

"The show has been dragging it out for so long, it's getting **boring.**"

The American snuck a glance at Arthur. The blond was ignoring him, cursing out the TV. Dragging things out could get boring. Alfred kept that piece of information in the back of his mind. It seemed important, kind of.

_**England's POV, Later that night…**_

Was it wrong that England had a collection of ghost movies saved up for this very occasion? Was it wrong that he bought this collection knowing full well it would scare Alfred?

On the TV screen, the ghost flew through the walls again and crept up behind a young woman. She was a pretty twenty-something. She was also the love interest for the socially-inept protagonist. The guy wasn't in this scene, though. The ghost crept closer, inch by inch, to the girl.

As planned, the American was scared and shaking. America kept England in a death grip for the entire second half of the film. Last time they watched one of these, Arthur had said it wasn't as cute when the nation got scared as it was when he was a child. Maybe it wasn't as cute, but it invoked entirely different feelings in Arthur. The blond felt himself getting warm.

"It's just a movie, Alfred."

Two screams from the TV drove the other nation to cling to Arthur some more. England wondered if his plan to scare America had been a little _too_ effective.

* * *

**AN: I do not own Hetalia, Star Wars, or the Wii.**

Sorry, this chapter took more time than I wanted it to. On the plus side, It's also a lot longer.

* I saw a fanart of England as Leia, and I couldn't resist weaving that into this chapter somehow. If you are wondering, I'm not trying to force England into the girl/uke role. If I do any smexy scenes at some point in this story, I'll have top/bottom decided by poll. Whether I write such scenes in the first place will also be decided by poll.

1)America said "Let me save first." and "Yes, mom."


	6. On Happy Endings

AN: A thousand million bazillion apologies to every one of my readers. I've been grounded for practically the entire month. My parents took away the computer AND my flash drives too! Well, I'm back now and here is my new chapter. I hope I got everything right. I based the description of the Elysee Palace and the Hotel Marigny partly on pictures and some descriptions…if I messed up, I'm very sorry.

_**France's POV, Sunset, Palais de l'Élysée, Paris **_

He had just gotten off the phone with Canada not too long ago. From what his dear _Matthieu _said, America was being just as stone-cold oblivious as ever. Another month had passed, and there was nothing to show for it. So, France decided it was high time he did something about it.

Francis watched the delicate dance of orange and pink on the horizon, through his second story window. Splashes of color fell over the garden. The hot summer air carried the scent of roses, while France was stuck inside. The room felt like a prison, albeit an antique, white and gold-lined, spacious, candlelit prison, with windows several times his own height. Even a place as beautiful as that was little more than a gilded cage when France knew there was _love _in the air.

_Le Président_ and Alfred's président were on decent terms. So, France hoped he could propose a meeting between the two without raising too many eyebrows.

Francis had called his boss immediately after he finished talking to Matthieu. France's boss sounded very irritable, and cut him off midway through France's proposal.

_Le Président_ did not allow Francis to wander the Palace unsupervised, so _le Président _had to come over to Francis's side of the building if the nation needed something. He felt tense and impatient, waiting for _le Président. _In fact, the wavy-haired blonde was just getting ready to leave until he heard shuffling on the other side of the door.

"_Bonsoir."_

_Le Président _offered an unusually quiet _Bonsoir _in return. He helped himself to a chair and silently motioned for Francis to do the same.

"Francis, I thought you hated America. "

"But this is _important, mon cher! _More important than Alfred's stupid Big Macs, or unflattering clothes."

France's président shook his head. "Francis, whatever it is you are after, you will not get if you insult his favorite food. Wait until after Alfred leaves, if you must. Do not cause another incident. **Tu comprends?** "

_**One Week Later, Alfred's POV, **__**Some Important French Hotel**_

Alfred was sitting next to his boss. They were having a meeting with France's boss for some strange reason. He had no idea why, and he had no idea where they were, either. He'd ask, but the President was already engaged in conversation with France's boss. First it was some polite small-talk, then a discussion about the Euro and Europe's economy.

They were in some fancy old hotel, in a white and gold room, with fancy paintings on the walls and sitting at a table with a bright rose-colored tablecloth. He'd been here before, but Alfred never kept track of this place's name. It was a mystery for the ages.

Across a modern-looking table, France stared intently at America, arms crossed. The expression on the older nation's face did not look like a leer, and he hadn't insulted America once today. That made Alfred even more uncomfortable, because _now _he had no idea what the hell France could want.

Alfred decided to speak first. That way, he would be in control of the conversation instead of Francis. He leaned over just an inch and in the lowest whisper Alfred was capable of, he spoke.

"Um, America offers condolences on the, um, execution of one of France's citizens. If you guys want help against the terrorists, the hero is just a phone call away, okay?"

Francis looked a bit startled. "Thank you for the concern and your condolences. But I am going to take care of it myself."

"But your boss said 'France does not practice revenge'."

"Oui. I will be going as _Francis Bonnefoy, _not France."

America nodded and glanced over at his boss. Still talking. He checked the clock, which said 2pm. They had another hour. He turned back to France.

"So what is this meeting for anyway?"

The Frenchman chuckled. "Heh, I figured you wouldn't come over if I just invited you out of the blue, given what happened last time? Don't give me that look…oh, you _wound me, _mon cher. But you would never leave your _Président _alone with _me_, would you?" A smile crept onto Francis' face as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

America growled. "What do you want from me?"

"Stop your pretense with Arthur and just ask him out already! Win him over with a grand gesture of love."

"…what?"

"You know you love him. And we're all tired of waiting."

"But I don't like him like that! …wait, WHO'S WE?"

Francis sighed, and counted off each country on his hand ,"There's myself, Hungary, Italy, _my dear Matthieu_, Japan, and every country who reads or requests Japan's doujinshi. "

"Italy? _Feliciano _is in on it…MATTHEW? JAPAN IS DRAWING-with England?"

The two presidents, Alfred's boss and France's boss, snapped their heads around to see what was the all the commotion about. The two had, respectively, expressions of mild amusement and confusion. Seeing the arched eyebrows of France's president, then the polite smile on his own boss's face, made Alfred realize how random he must have sounded. Alfred forced his face into one of his signature grins. _Pfft, whatever. Just be cool. _

Francis chuckled and waved both the humans away. "Don't worry about it, it is nothing. Please, continue. "

Alfred agreed. "Yeah, it was no big deal." Slowly, the two human men turned away from their nations and went on about whatever it was they were talking about. This time Alfred didn't even pretend to listen. Once the presidents were satisfied that everything was fine, Francis leaned over the desk.

"Shh. Relax, mon ami. You don't want to give yourself an aneurysm, do you?"

America sputtered, but kept his voice low. "What…but how….how am I supposed to relax when Japan…_Kiku_…is drawing weird pictures of me and England?" Alfred took a deep breath. "What exactly is Kiku drawing?"

"He takes requests. Kiku's gotten three times as many US/UK requests since the conference. And let me say, Arthur is such a-"

"Shut up!" Alfred lunged after Francis, but fell on his face. "Alfred F. Jones!" America cringed.

Alfred's boss turned away from his conversation with the French president, and began lecturing. "Young man, you will stop this right now and behave like a normal country. You **cannot** go around hitting people."

"France started it."

His boss raised one eyebrow, "How old are you? Three? I can't take you with me anywhere."

Alfred dusted his jacket off, and sat down across from Francis. The US President ignored Al's sulking.

France's boss, who sat across from Alfred's, said."Don't stress too much over it." He shot a look at France. "Francis probably did start something."

"Sometimes, I can't tell if I'm a president, or Alfred's glorified babysitter."

"Francis groped half my staff, my wife, and me this morning alone."

_**England's POV, One Hour Later, Outside the **__**Hôtel de Marigny**_

_Why did that frog invite America to a meeting?_ England was pacing around the entrance nonstop since he'd arrived. A security guard tried to make him leave, but a clerk shooed the guard away. The clerk did not know exactly who _England _was, but he did know that _Monsieur Kirkland_ was a very highly ranked official of the British government, and that angering Monsieur Kirkland would be very, very bad.

"Allow me to invite you inside, Monsieur Kirkland. I am sorry for any inconvenience the security guard may have caused you."

England thanked the man curtly and stepped inside. He went straight to the bathroom(it was a really long trip). He paced around the lobby waiting for America and France to finish their meeting.

Maybe Arthur was paranoid. It could have been either Alfred's boss or France's boss's idea to hold a meeting. If that were the case, though, neither of them would have brought their nations with them.

England would have preferred to crash the meeting and snatch America away from the clutches of France. But the Queen herself sent a messenger to his home this morning, summoned him to the Buckingham Palace, and personally made him promise to not cause any trouble between the United Kingdom and the French Republic. After knowing him for 58 years, the Queen was always one step ahead of Arthur.

Arthur checked his watch. 3:15. They should have finished 15 minutes ago, he thought. He stared at the door to the rest of the Marigny. They were somewhere inside the building, probably in a VIP lounge. From somewhere on the other side of the door, he heard a loud crash, and loud French cursing. The door swung open. Just as Arthur expected, it was Alfred. He crashed right into England on his way to the exit. England helped himself up before America could offer a hand. Arthur noticed a rip on the side of his pants. Against his better judgment, he decided to not call Alfred an idiot. As France chose that moment to appear from the door shaking his fist at Alfred, Arthur decided to blame France instead.

"What the hell are you chasing him for anyway? Thoughtless prick. I fully expect you to compensate me for these ruined clothes, by the way."

France laughed."_Amerique _knocked you down. It would be more appropriate-and gentlemanly-for him to buy you a new uniform."

"I'm not talking about the rip caused by the fall. I could sew it." The shorter man brushed off his pants."I mean the dirt from _your country _now staining my breeches."

Francis got an odd gleam in his eye, the kind that meant trouble. Arthur hovered in front of Alfred, just in case. "Let me make it up to you by buying you dinner, Angleterre. Amerique. Both of you. "

Alfred responded for him."Yeah! That's pretty cool of you, France. I'm starving. I bet Iggy is too."

_**At An Expensive Restaurant, An Hour Later**_

The fact that England hadn't eaten since the day before and was ravenously hungry was only a small factor in his acceptance of France's proposed lunch. After all of Francis's molestation attempts, he was sure that the Frenchman owed him at least a dinner. The true reason, of course, was the fact that Alfred had clearly accepted for the both of them. Arthur could hardly leave him alone with Francis at a nice restaurant. So they changed into some nice outfits that Francis had apparently saved up for just this particular occasion. England was going to grumble about it, but remembered that he _had _asked France to replace the torn uniform. Arthur was wearing black dress pants and a white dress shirt, with black gloves. Alfred got tan dress pants and a light blue shirt. Francis had a cream-colored pirate blouse and black pants.

Then the three left for a nice restaurant somewhere in Paris. Arthur didn't recognize it, but then, he didn't come here very often. Alfred got all excited and asked Francis about it. Apparently, it was new. Arthur left a little pang of jealousy, wondering just how Alfred would know anyway.

A trio of American girls, roughly high school age, passed the group by. _Of course. _ America recognized them and told France and England the life stories of three girls from Colorado. Elizabeth Hall, Jaclyn Schmidt, and Jennifer Lind were their names. They were all honors students on a field trip to Paris, paid for by a spring fundraiser (selling a few hundred overpriced cakes, candies and magazine subscriptions door-to-door) that took each girl over 200 hours to complete. Liz and Jackie were on their way to good colleges next year, and Jenny was going to take over the family business. The girls wanted to travel all over the world, hopefully together. America beamed as he talked about them. He was so proud of his girls. That was how he referred to them; his girls, his boys, all of them his children.

To Arthur's great surprise, Francis did not comment or complain once during Alfred's recounting of the American girls' lives. France must have been in a _very _generous mood, or else he had something up his sleeve.

They got inside the restaurant, and didn't have to wait at all. The staff knew and loved Monsieur Bonnefoy, one of their best customers. A young blond boy, who looked suspiciously similar to a young Francis, guided them to a quiet area near the back. The boy bowed low, said hello to 'Oncle Francis', took their drink orders, then left.

And not even five minutes into their time at the restaurant, France faked a cell-phone ringing. He said needed to see his boss right away. England's first reaction was anger.

"How dare you invite us to dinner and then just-" England silently cursed France. "You set me-" He sighed."Oh, nevermind. Go on then."

France left enough money on the table to pay for everything, as promised, then disappeared into the crowd.

A waitress brought them lemonade, tea, and a glass of wine. She was young, olive-skinned, dark haired, kind of pretty. Arthur wouldn't have even noticed her if it wasn't for the fact Alfred started chatting with her in apparently decent, though accented, French_. _The waitress giggled. "Right away, Monsieur Jones!" Alfred gave her a giant smile. She scooped up their menus and scampered away toward the kitchen. Arthur decided that he didn't like her. She was too young, and her tan looked fake. And she was a French girl stealing Alfred's attention.

"She didn't even ask what I was going to order!" England said.

"I ordered for you that thing you were staring at on the menu earlier. I figured that was what you wanted."

"Oh."

Arthur stared down at his gloved hands. So Alfred was just ordering their food. Well, who could blame him for getting a little jealous? Everybody knew Alfred liked girls. He looked up at Alfred, who didn't seem to notice. The American was trying to smooth down his hair, with no success. His hair got messier with each attempt. Arthur turned his gaze downward, toward the table. He noted it was made of elegant cherrywood, polished to a high shine.

Alfred liked girls. Damn it.

_**America's POV**_

Alfred took a sip of the wine, since Francis wasn't here anyway. Francis was gone, and Arthur was completely ignoring him right now. Staring at the table for some strange reason, though that didn't faze Alfred. Arthur was a pretty strange guy, right? _Yeah, it's completely normal for him to stare at a table while we're-um, enjoying a dinner France paid for. Yeah._

"Hey, Iggy, she brought your tea."

Arthur took the glass and quietly sipped his tea, without responding.

'_If he's not going to be part of a conversation, I can just talk at him until he starts to talk. Right? That'll definitely work, 'cause he'll tell me I'm rude, and then we'll be talking. Instead of sitting here all silent-like. Am I rambling in my own thoughts? I think I am. I should say something.'_

"So…uh…um, I was talking with Scotland the other day, and Sealand was there, so Scotland told us a story. About the three little pigs, except it didn't sound right."

England blinked. "Yes, he has his own version. It's a little different."

"Yeah, instead of a wolf, there was a fox, and he kidnapped the other two pigs, and the third pig rescued them. "

"From the _Green Fairy Book,_ Andrew Lang."

"Yeah, that's it! He read it to me and Sealand. Is that how it really goes?"

"There's…multiple versions. "

"Can I hear one of those?"

Arthur frowned at Alfred, probably suspicious. From what he could tell, the Englishman deemed it a harmless request though, and dropped the frown. The blond cleared his throat-"_Ahem,"-_and took a small red book out from who-knows-here.

"This is from the first time my country printed the story. It existed long before, but this is the first printed version."

Alfred watched in awe as Arthur carefully searched for the story. The blond man was holding the old book close to his face, one black glove resting on the red cover, while the other turned every page slowly, as if he feared the book would turn into dust right there. He stopped on what Alfred assumed must be the correct page, saying "_Ah! There it is!"_ It wasn't as showy as Alfred, Francis or Feliciano could be, yet, Arthur was captivating, theatrical in his own way. The Brit cleared his throat again, becoming solemn, quiet.

"Once upon a time when pigs spoke rhyme

And monkeys chewed tobacco,

And hens took snuff to make them tough,

And ducks went quack, quack, quack, O!

There was an old sow with three little pigs, and as she had not enough to keep them, she sent them out to seek their fortune.

The first that went off met a man with a bundle of straw, and said to him:

Please, man, give me that straw to build me a house.

Which the man did, and the little pig built a house with it. Presently came along a wolf, and knocked at the door, and said:

'Little pig, little pig, let me come in.'

To which the pig answered:

'No, no, by the hair of my chinny chin chin.'

The wolf then answered to that:

'Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in.'

So he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew his house in, and ate up the little pig."

"The pig got eaten!" Alfred cried out. "But-but-"

"Well, that _was_ how the tale originally went. Now, let me finish." Arthur said.

"'The second little pig met a man with a bundle of furze, and said:

"Please, man, give me that furze to build a house."'

Alfred interrupted. "What's furze?"

Arthur stared at him. "It's an evergreen shrub…sticks, Alfred. The man gave the pig sticks. Now, back to the story."

"'The second little pig met a man with a bundle of furze, and said:

"Please, man, give me that furze to build a house."

Which the man did, and the pig built his house. Then along came the wolf, and said:

'Little pig, little pig, let me come in.'

'No, no, by the hair of my chinny chin chin.'

'Then I'll puff, and I'll huff, and I'll blow your house in.'

So he huffed, and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and at last he blew the house down, and he ate up the little pig."

The American groaned loudly. Another pig eaten? Man, did they _all _get eaten in the British version? The Englishman stared at Alfred, as if to say '_Are you done now?'_ When Alfred didn't complain, Arthur seemed to take it as a signal to go on.

"The third little pig met a man with a load of bricks, and said:

'Please, man, give me those bricks to build a house with.'

So the man gave him the bricks, and he built his house with them. So the wolf came, as he did to the other little pigs, and said:

'Little pig, little pig, let me come in.'

'No, no, by the hair of my chinny chin chin."

'Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."

England took a deep breath, and grabbed one of the napkins on their table. America watched as he carefully unfolded it and held it in front of his face. Alfred noted the black gloves. They suited England really, really well.

"Well, he huffed, and he puffed," England blew on the napkin, but his hands kept the napkin from flying. "-and he huffed and he puffed, and he puffed and huffed; but he could _not_ get the house down."

England put the napkin down on the table, then continued,"When he found that he could not, with all his huffing and puffing, blow the house down, he said:

'Little pig, I know where there is a nice field of turnips.'"

Alfred panicked. This was one of the bad stories, wasn't it? Darn England…

_**England's POV**_

"NO! Don't fall for the Big Bad Wolf's tricks, little pig! He'll just eat you like all the others!"

Alfred's glasses were askew and he had an expression of horror on his face. The American grabbed Arthur's book, but Arthur snatched it back and put it away.

"Alfred! You can't just take my book!"

"But if I let you keep reading it, something bad will happen to the last pig, I just know it."

"How does stealing my book have anything to do with…? And the pig does live."

Alfred brightened up a little, though he looked guarded. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Why, of course I'm sure, you dolt! It's one of my books."

"Well…what happens?"

Arthur stared at the sandy haired nation before him. It was fascinating, how much and yet how little his former colony has changed. Eyes bright blue, full of excitement and wonder, just like then. A body taller and stronger than Arthur's own by far, though also slightly pudgy from excess. That began when they started to drift apart…

"The wolf goes down the pig's chimney, falls into a pot of boiling water, and the pig cooks him for dinner."

Alfred frowned. "Well, the wolf kind of earned it, but it's all kind of a downer. Not very much like a fairytale."

"All fairytales are like that. The original versions, anyhow. You're thinking Disney. Actual fairytales are not meant for children, and when they are, it's supposed to scare them into staying inside."

"Oh, like how you'd tell me that the boogeyman would eat me if I didn't brush my teeth? Thanks a lot."

"It worked. Look at your teeth. They _sparkle." _

"You shouldn't scare children, Iggy. That's not cool."

England closed his eyes. Right about now, he figured that Alfred would launch into long rant detailing the virtues of happy endings. Why happy endings were better than a tragedy. Why it was more fun to read a book, watch a movie, or see a play that ended on a positive note. He knew that Alfred would passionately defend each and every one of his own versions of Arthur's old stories. Alfred would pump his fist into the air and his glasses would fog up ever so slightly. He'd jump, and kick, and generally make a fool out of them both. Just as Arthur expected, Alfred did exactly that.

"Look, happy stories aren't so bad. With all the grief everybody gets by the end of the story, the characters sure deserve a little bit of sunshine if they want it."

Alfred did get up. He circled around their table, and if there had been anyone else watching in their corner of the restaurant, the two nations would have surely looked like colossal idiots. The American circled their table and told Arthur that he really should give happier stories a chance.

"What's so horrible about earning your own little happy ending anyway? Don't you want to be _happy _someday_, _Arthur?"

Didn't he want to be happy? Arthur wasn't sure what he wanted.

"Geez, I'd almost think you liked being miserable all the time." Alfred stopped, and looked the little blond man dead in the eyes."_Do you like being miserable all the time?"_

"I-of course not. I'm not miserable."

The other nation, still standing, didn't say anything back. England caught himself staring at America again. All smiles, happiness, and rays of sunshine, full of caffeine and probably on a perpetual sugar high. It was a stark contrast to himself-a dour, sour man with a stiff upper lip.

"I suppose it's not all that bad. A happy ending, I mean."

Alfred beamed. "Great! Now we can eat."

"Eat? We don't have our food yet!"

"Yes we do. It came five minutes ago."

England looked down on the cherrywood table, and sure enough, their food and silverware were here. '_How did this happen without me noticing? Alfred noticed, and he's the most oblivious nation there is! Well, except for Italy…' _Alfred plopped down and wolfed all his food before Arthur even knew what the nation ordered. Arthur took a knife and fork and cut his own food into neat sections, eating it piece by piece. Alfred laughed.

"Nofoddy's waafing ou. Fyoo can eaff hoeffer fyoo want."*

"Don't talk with your mouth full!"

* * *

AN: I had way to much fun writing this. I think the nations probably drive their bosses crazy. I decided against using actual names in this chapter while referring to real people. The version of the Three Little Pigs that England was reading is part of a book called _English Fairy Tales _by Joseph Jacobs.

The part about the boogeyman and dental hygiene was not a crack at British people, and I didn't realize it until after I wrote it. I decided to leave it in because you guys have a sense of humor. I mean, you watch/read Hetalia. Seriously, Alfred's teeth do sparkle. I saw it in an episode the other day. And n_ow you know why! _Heheheheh.

*Nobody's watching you. You can eat however you want.


End file.
